Ticking Clocks
by grissomsbutterfly1013
Summary: Grissom becomes depressed and isolated after he loses Sara. However, all is not lost when he realizes that the past is reversable. No character death AU loosely based on time travel. WIP
1. Prologue

**Story note: ** The following fic is an **AU** based loosely on time travel. Please don't worry, this is not a character death- it will all work out.

**A/N: **There are so many people who have helped out with this story! Firstly, I would like to thank my best friend **Tracey** for dreaming such an interesting story. Your dreams are always inspiration for new fic ideas! A big thanks goes out to **Ashura** who is my beta this time around. A hug goes to **Ambientflames** for teaching me all about my minor grammar tendencies. A wave goes out to **Unspoken** who is always there for me. And one HUGE shout out goes to my "**Nocence**" gals- don't worry _Nocence_ is coming.

**Ticking Clocks**

_Prologue_

"_She's gone and its too much to take, I try to move on but everyone knows now that I'm a fake._

_Hidden secrets and lies consume my heart as my tears roll down and I tear apart. Falling, crashing and never looking back. I now know what I must do and the wrong must be attacked._

_Time is my enemy that which I must fight. I must go back and finally make all the wrongs into the right." _

Grissom fought the tears which filled up in his eyes as he refused to say good bye. How dare she not tell him until it was too late. Maybe if he had known he could have made her happy before all was lost. Grissom knew what he had to do, to some it may seem selfish but to him it was necessary. After all, he would do anything to bring her back even if it meant changing the world for better or for worse.


	2. Chapter 1: Transeo

**Chapter One**

_Transeo_

The smell of disinfectant stung his nose as Grissom made his way down the lengthy hallway. He could only begin to wonder if he would ever reach his destination. Workers ran down corridors holding metal tubing and plastic structures which resembled tools that may be used on a spacecraft. Not one individual was dressed in a uniform which may reveal the company they worked for; suits and sumptuous articles of business attire were permitted only. Uniforms were a risky item to wear when you worked for a branch of the federal government. Grissom knew very well who he was looking for, he just didn't know where to begin his search.

"Can I help you with something Sir? You seem lost." The middle aged federal worker displayed with pride his perfectly tied Windsor knot as he pushed his chest out even further. He resembled a peacock who was trying to display its attributes to a possible mate. His auburn hair, mixed with a hint of silver, strode across his face as he continued to wear a flawless white smile. Grissom was eventually hit with the familiar feeling of deja vu as he continued to stare at the gentleman before him.

"Tom?" Grissom inquired.

"It took you that long to realize? I thought you were supposed to be some 'big-shot' criminal investigator huh?"

"Yeah well it's been a long time." Grissom looked the man over with a grin. Tom had been one of his only friends in high school- make that his only friend. Over the years they had lost contact as their careers both skyrocketed. Coincidentally, both men had acquired a job which related to science. Grissom put away the bad guys while Tom invented a way to stop the common criminal.

"Yeah well I figured if I haven't seen you since college we must have something exciting to talk about. Remember what I said the last time I saw you?" Tom questioned while guiding Grissom threw two gargantuan sized doors.

"Yeah you said by your fiftieth birthday you would have the invention that would blow the world away. Tom, I hope you didn't mean literally." Grissom arched an eyebrow as they continued to head through a series of doors with security locks and codes.

"Aw, come on Gil! You know I only invent for the benefit for the planet. Before you see this I want your honest opinion on this project-- as often as possible. I'm giving you these keycards to access this space as often as you like. Of course this is permitting if I am in the building. Our funding guy doesn't want anyone but me playing around with this thing." Tom smiled as they finally entered a warehouse which currently housed over fifty assiduous employees. Grissom had known Tom since he was five years old, they had been neighbors in California up until they both moved out of their childhood homes.

Tom worked for the CIA in a Top Secret branch titled "Transeo"; not even Grissom knew the meaning behind the name. He could only hope his friend would explain his objective before his patience began to wear thin.

A couple of days ago, Grissom had received a phone call from Tom's secretary requesting his presence at a demonstration. His curiosity got the better of him as he took the night off and met up with his old colleague.

"So what exactly are you going to show me Tom?" Grissom watched in fascination as his friend stopped in front of a glass case and pulled out a simple looking digital watch.

"This is what I wanted to show you!" Tom laughed.

"All this intrigue and mystery for a watch? Come on Tom, what does it do?" Grissom raised another eyebrow as he watched Tom take a cat out of a cage and strap the watch around its neck.

"Would you believe me if I said that I could send this cat back in time to 1905?"

"I would say that you have high hopes. In order for one to travel through time it is said that one would have to travel faster then the speed of light. From my meager amount of knowledge in this method of time travel, we have no ability to interact with what has occurred. We can only observe. The most notable example of this type of time travel is stars. We see the light waves they sent off years ago, but have no way of interacting with the occurrences. And so far in our day and age, it is not possible to travel faster then the speed of light…" Grissom stated while taking off his glasses and removing several specks of dirt on a lens with the end of his dress shirt.

"I'm impressed Gil! You remember all my talks and babblings in high school." Tom laughed.

"No, I remember several physics classes I took as a minor to obtain my doctorate. It's not possible to travel through time." Grissom stated once more to try to get his concrete opinion across.

"You know that I wouldn't bring you all the way down here so I could tell you it's impossible. And apparently, you can interact-- despite what your physics teacher told you." Tom mused as he clicked several buttons on the cat's collar. Within a matter of seconds, the young feline disappeared leaving behind the smell of ozone as several electrical sparks fell to the ground. The action left Grissom feeling speechless as his logic tried to comprehend what had just occurred.

"And what did I tell ya'? Time travel is possible." Tom let out a hardy laugh as he began to explain the technical aspects of his product.

"So you're telling me that this cat has gone back to the year 1905 and will come back with video tape proof?" Grissom was still in shock while Tom relished in his friend's confusion.

"Yes. The watch is a time travel device…I won't dive into too much detail but all I can tell you is that it works. Every cat we have sent through various time periods has been able to interact with the populous from the past. Of course we're only permitted to send animals through time, and even then it's risky."

"I'm assuming the risk you're talking about refers to when someone or something goes back through time it risks contaminating the timeline." Grissom announced as his head still ached from the irrational information his brain was trying to process.

Forget the risks.

Grissom didn't even think time travel was possible let alone risky.

"Correct. And our funding only allows us to send animals due to the fact that they will not talk with the public. We want to be as discreet as possible Gil. God knows what would happen if the wrong person got their hands on this machine." Tom brushed back his hair as he forced any negative thoughts out of his head. Nothing was going to go wrong and no one was going to sabotage his invention. It was under more then enough high security.

"So if this thing works, can that cat go back in time and stop me from tripping during that science speech in middle school? That event had catastrophic effects on my psyche." Grissom let out a chuckle as Tom shook a finger at him.

"No way! I got better than you on that speech because I didn't fall!" The two colleagues continued to talk into the night on the subject of time and the universe. Grissom promised never to repeat his newly acquired information to anyone, an obvious decision. He was impeccable at keeping secrets; it was easy when he had no friends to confide in.


	3. Chapter 2: The Condition

**Chapter 2**

_The Condition_

_Three Weeks later…_

The coughs were barely audible through the various tones the emergency vehicles made as they moved closer to the crime scene. There was already more then enough police patrolling the scene-the sirens had to be from an ambulance. Normally there would be no rush to remove the body from the scene, but its presence was currently causing a ruckus on the crowded streets of downtown Las Vegas. It was a Friday night and the casinos were swamped with tourists and general party-goers looking to have a good time.

"His name is Rick Johansson, he lives in downtown Vegas and works as a stripper for a living. His wallet is full of cash so I'm assuming that robbery was not the killer's intention." Brass continued to inform Grissom and Sara what little information he knew about the victim, however Sara was beginning to unintentionally block out the Captain's words. The feeling of dizziness was starting to overwhelm her senses as her coughs continued to get louder. Grissom began to grow further concerned as Sara walked away from the scene and slightly bent over, trying to clear her throat

"Are you alright?" Grissom asked. Sara could hear the sharp amount of agitation in his voice, she tried to pretend that she was well. She had learned to deal with her condition for two years, she could only assume this spell would stop—eventually.

"I'm fine." Sara managed to exclaim through another hacking cough. It didn't have to take someone with a medical degree to know that Sara was far from "fine".

"You shouldn't be at work if you're sick Sara. You could have called in." Grissom continued to look at Sara with a hint of pain in his eyes as he watched her struggle to breathe. "That's it, I'm calling the paramedics."

"No, it's just a cold Grissom, I'll be fine. See? The coughing has stopped." Sara began to hold her breath which helped suppress her condition for the time being. She set aside her illness once more and tried as hard as she could to focus on the scene in front of her. Rick Johansson was found shot to death outside The Palms only thirty minutes ago. There were no witnesses due to the fact that everyone had been watching a fireworks display celebrating the fourth of July. Technically Sara thought that every night in Vegas was a celebration of some sort, the formalities of the night only added to the already crowded streets. She expected that her shift may be busy, however, she never presumed to be feeling as debilitated as she currently felt.

Grissom gave her one last look of concern before glancing back to the crime scene. That was one mistake he would never forgive himself for. Work always seemed to come first, why didn't he get her the help she needed? Was he that self centered to just walk away when she needed him the most? In all honesty, Sara's condition wasn't Grissom's fault, it was brought on by her own misdeeds. She should have been put on bed rest nearly six months ago, however she would not allow for the truth to set in that easily. If she was treated as a fragile being she would become fragile—at least, that's what Sara perceived.

"Gun shot residue surrounds the wound on his temple. He was shot at close range…" Grissom's voice trailed off yet again, as Sara strained herself to focus. Her body felt as if it were on fire as she began to pace around the crime scene. Grissom finally gave up on processing the evidence and approached her for the final time, he was intent on taking Sara to the hospital. The sweat dripping down her face was a clear indication of a high fever. The night's air had a bitter chill to it; far from making her flushed.

"_Are you that weak? What kind of a CSI are you if you can't even process a simple shooting?_" _Grissom yelled. His infuriated choice of words startled Sara, making her fight the pain that each utterance had caused her. _

_"I'm sick Grissom, I didn't want to stop working because of it. I'm sorry." Sara cried, now beginning to tremble from her ailments which threatened to take over her body._

"_I don't care what you are! Get out your kit and start processing or you're going to be out of a job!_" _Grissom threw Sara's kit at her, barely missing her head as it landed forcefully to the ground. Her heart lurched at his sudden anger towards her, she was barely able to keep her head up let alone work. _

_"Why are you acting like this?" Sara cried as she fell to her knees, giving into her weakened state. _

Grissom couldn't understand who she was talking to, he didn't have a chance to put a word in before Sara started to talk incoherently. As she began to flare her arms and scream out unrecognizable words, he knew he had to take action. He flipped out his radio as fast as he could and called for the paramedics; labeling his situation as an unknown medical emergency.

As Grissom knelt in front of Sara he realized she didn't even acknowledge his presence as she continued to talk in what seemed like a different language.

"_You know I've never loved you. Why do you think I refused your dinner invite?" Grissom snarled as he took off a pair of latex gloves and threw them at her feet._

_"Please Grissom, all I need right now is an ambulance." Sara pleaded as her coughing returned._

Grissom threw his gloves at his feet and put his hand on Sara's forehead. She felt blazing hot to the touch, as if he were feeling an element on a stove. He sat on the ground next to her and placed his hands protectively around her body; hoping that his touch would bring her back to a sense of reality.

Brass took photos to document the crime scene which allowed Grissom to tend to Sara. As the ambulance finally came to their aid, he helped the paramedics place Sara on the gurney, never taking his eyes off of her. He insisted that he would ride with her to the hospital, she never put up a fight. Sara didn't even know he was there, she couldn't even feel his slightly calloused hands holding her own in a protective nature. The oxygen mask appeared to stop her coughing and the ice bag on her forehead was an attempt to minorly lower her fever. However, these were just temporary remedies until they reached the hospital.

At the hospital the truth would ooze to the surface, hurting Grissom in more ways than one.


	4. Chapter 3: In all Honesty

**AN: **This fiction has a minor crossover to the show House. If you haven't seen the show please don't fret, its not apart of the story for more then two chapters. And please note that time travel changes MANY things. Even a cat can slightly alter someone's occupation if it goes through time. Remember "_The Butterfly Effect_"? Thx again to **Ashura** for betaing, even though she doesn't understand the logistics of time travel.

**Chapter 3**

_In all Honesty_

"Her fever was 105 degrees; at that temperature one may experience convolutions, chills or even hallucinations. Her fever probably explains what you saw Dr. Grissom." The elderly doctor brushed back his salt and pepper hair and tried to ignore the stray hairs which flew off his head. After reaching fifty, Dr. Pendale started losing his hair. If one looked closely one may discover how thin his hair was receding. He tried to keep his hair loss under wraps, however the effects of time were irreversible.

"She was talking incoherently, are you sure it's not from a head trauma? Or from an interaction of medication? Or…" Grissom was frantic, Sara was unconscious and he was not satisfied that her behavior was simply brought on by a fever.

"Listen, the doctor who has been treating her is flying down to Vegas. His plane has probably already landed; he has her charts and medical records. He's the one that has been treating her condition on the insistence of her father." Dr. Pendale exclaimed as he poured himself a cup of coffee, trying to wake up his senses. Since yesterday night he had been on call and up for more then twenty-four hours. His eyes were slightly puffy and he was well overdue for a nap.

"What? What condition?" Grissom's heart felt as if it were about to explode as it pumped under the stress which was being thrown at him every minute.

"She didn't tell you…Then I think you should wait for her doctor. He knows more about her history then I do. Excuse me." Dr. Pendale left Grissom in order for him to compose himself, he clearly seemed to be floored by the information he had just acquired. Grissom wasn't alone for more then a minute before he heard yelling coming from the nurse's station.

"What is going on here? I told you not to put her on anything without my approval! Even something as simple as that Acetaminophen you're giving her could trigger more problems!" Dr. Gregory House was not a man of patience nor was he a doctor that would leave his own hospital to tend to an "out of state" medical emergency. However, Sara had grown on him and he had agreed to her foster father's plea for help. He had been treating her for nearly two years and had not made a significant amount of progress. Her illness was one that was not uncommon or a rarity, it was simply incurable.

People who worked in House's hospital did not know of his other degrees in medicine; he secretly held one in Oncology. (Only Cuddy knew of this secret in particular.) He chose to study Oncology all because of an estranged cat that knocked over someone's research paper, which explained the evolving techniques in curing cancer. Only if necessary would House treat cancer patients—only if he was the patient's last resort. Out of the twenty cancer patients he had dealt with in his career, eighteen had survived.

For Sara's illness he had tried various treatments, some worked for a while, while others had no effect on her recovery. House knew she would get worse and all he could do was wait for that inevitable call that would lead him to Vegas, to treat the one disease he could not cure within a couple of days. He tried to hide his sympathy for her; he hated to sympathize with his patients. Most of the time House didn't meet his patients unless he had to, he liked to make decisions without any personal attachment. His treatments were known as unorthodox however, most of the time he was able to cure those who were debilitated. This was not the case.

"Damn it! Damn it!" House swore under his breath as he frantically searched his pockets, unable to find the item which was precious to him most. It appeared he left behind his most valuable means of survival back at his residence; he could only hope he would find some replacements in the mean time.

"Nurse! Where do you guys keep your vicodin?" House asked as seriously as he possibly could, knowing very well that he looked like an addict.

"Are you joking?" The nurse asked in a mocking tone.

"No as a matter of fact I am not 'joking'. I am here on a case of the highest importance and I cannot work without my vicodin. You see Mrs…Jenkins, if I don't get my pills I get VERY cranky and I'm not a pleasure to work with. They let me do my job, and they take away my pain. So unless you want me to be a 'pain', direct me to your medicine storage." As House's eyes narrowed further, the nurse pointed down the hall, unable to say anything after the speech she had just endured. She appeared to be in a trance for several more seconds before snapping out of it and returning to her duties.

Grissom tried to catch up to the disgruntled doctor, however the cane appeared to make House move faster as he continued to focus on his new mission at hand. He needed those pills, the pain in his leg began to throb uncontrollably as he continued to move faster down the long corridors of the hospital. The smiling nurses who greeted House from every angle agitated him further as he tried to block their pearly whites from his mind. Sometimes he thought it would be much easier to carry out the rest of his life invisible, at least then he wouldn't have to deal with people.

"Dr. House?" Grissom shouted, trying to get the doctor's attention. House hesitantly turned around and allowed for Grissom to catch up.

"Ah, here we go…" House muttered tiredly. "So you must be her boyfriend I assume."

"Are you the doctor who has been treating Sara Sidle?" Grissom asked, feeling slightly nauseated at the thought of Sara needing a specialist for her illness; which still remained a mystery.

"No I'm just a nurse…What? Don't look at me that way, nurses can be men too you know." House snapped sarcastically.

"Listen, I don't have time for your games. I need to know what is going on with Sara and I know very well that you're her doctor." Grissom malevolently stated, while trying to calm his nerves before he said things which he may regret. It was bad enough that Sara never told him about her illness, but what infuriated him further was that this self-centered, arrogant doctor was the one she confided in.

"Alright then I'll just answer all of your questions in one shot." House stopped talking in mid-conversation just as the saw the medicine supply room. He stopped walking abruptly and turned to the booth. "Yes, I need a bottle of vicodin, as fast as possible." House disregarded the pharmacist's questions and didn't even bother try to calm himself down. "Listen, enough with the questions! I need that vicodin!"

The pharmacist shot House one more look of concern before heading into the back to collect the pills. Grissom theorized that House was an addict; he knew it was a trademark which came with his reputation. Grissom had heard about House's medical miracles which he perceived as an act of luck rather then practice. Grissom knew very well of House's intelligence and experience yet he hated the way he presented himself. He was appalled by the fact that Sara was being treated by this rude and abusive practitioner. If Sara had confided in him, he may have found someone more professional to cure her ailment.

House's eyes practically bulged from their sockets as the pharmacist handed him the pills.

"Now take these with plenty of water and don't have more then one every eight hours." The pharmacist insisted. House blocked the advice he knew very well out of his head, as he popped two pills in his mouth without anything to wash it down.

"Yah, yah. Want one?" House asked Grissom, knowing very well what his response would be. "Oh right, you wanna know about the girl." House fidgeted with his jacket and placed the pills inside only to hear them fall to the ground where its contents spilled onto the floor. "So that's how you got away!" He yelled at the ground as he began to quickly pick them up and placing them inside the bottle where they belonged.

"Do you mind Dr. House? I believe my patience is wearing more then thin." Grissom stated as he watched in disgust; the doctor stroked the bottle before placing it into another jacket pocket. This time the pills stayed inside.

"Sara has lung cancer. She was fine for a while but her condition has been irritated further due to recently contracting pneumonia. She's most likely going to die, the chemo has destroyed her immune system." House gave Grissom the facts without any emotion or sympathy, but that wasn't what infuriated the supervisor.

"And you're just walking around the hospital, feeding your own addiction instead of helping her?" Grissom yelled, feeling all his blood rush to his head as anger consumed his body.

"Pretty much. I can't do anything for her." House exclaimed with a hint of melancholy which would be barely noticeable to those who did not know him personally.

"What kind of a doctor are you? You don't even care for your patients let alone even try to feel the slightest degree of sympathy!" Grissom already loathed the doctor to the highest degree and he barely knew the man.

"Who are you to judge? What kind of a friend are you to Sara? You probably just found out that she had an illness, judging from your anger and confusion. I bet you're in denial huh? Sucks doesn't it, to know you can't do anything for her… To know that her life rests in my hands?" House tried to suppress his satisfaction as a pang of guilt overwhelmed him. Somehow his emotion remained hidden underneath his sarcastic exterior. "Now that we're even, let me introduce myself. I'm Doctor Gregory House." He held out his hand but was not offered a friendly embrace in return.

"I know who you are…" Grissom confessed as he took off his glasses and placed them inside one of his pant pockets. He wanted to cry, he needed solitude to comprehend the information he was just given. His heart ached more then anyone could fathom and most of all, he just wanted Sara. He wanted to be with her, to help her through this. She wasn't going to die nor was she going to stay ill. He refused to give in.

"Fantastic." House sighed as he began to walk down the hallway.

"Aren't you going to ask who I am?" Grissom questioned as he watched in annoyance as House began to walk away.

"Why does it matter?" House yelled back, as he walked further and further away from Grissom. He raised an eyebrow and didn't bother to chase him. Right now he didn't feel like moving, let alone conversing with a deranged lunatic. He needed to focus on getting Sara better and telling her the truth before it was indeed too late.


End file.
